


Heroes and Villains: Of Life and Borrowed Time

by irishlullaby13



Series: Heroes and Villains [8]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: someone dies but they get better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-10-05 02:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: "I’ve lived on borrowed time, more than any man deserves. I’ve seen wonders beyond my wildest imaginings. And through these centuries, against the impossibility that we would find each other… we did. And I am most grateful for it." -- Ichabod Crane





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slightly darker Capt/Siren fic in the beginning but it has a happy ending, I promise.

The Underworld had been surprisingly… sunny. 

Most interpretations of it described it as dark and dismal. A land of fire and brimstone meant for the torturing of damned souls. A flat wasteland of nothingness and death.

Yes, it currently appeared to be a desert wasteland. However, there was strong evidence that this was a recent occurrence. It seemed much like a massive garden that had gone unattended for far too long.

Where they had chartered the centre of The Garden to be--and oh, The Siren loathed his coining it such--there was a solitary tree that stood alone. Like all the others it was barren. Unlike the others, the dark roots broke the hard, dusty ground, splintering out like ancient decayed veins that sought to nurture the plant life around it.

Or kill it.

After the initial discovery, the Siren preferred to avoid the tree. “Something about it seems off,” she insisted.

While yes, if one were to take into account senses of foreboding, that tree was the origin in this place. Ichabod, however, found it intriguing and took at least a few minutes everyday to study it. He couldn't explain it. He was simply… curious.

If he remembered correctly, judging by the general structure of the tree and having no sign of foliage or fruit around to help, it was a pomegranate tree. A rather large pomegranate tree, but a pomegranate tree nonetheless.

It made sense in the sense that, mythologically, pomegranates were grown in the Underworld. But why was this particular one set alone? Why was it so much larger than the other ones in the small grove on the Eastern side of the circle of dirt that surrounded it? On that note, why was there at least a half mile circle where nothing existed except hard, cracked dirt? 

No rocks, not even renegade branches. Just dirt and the remnants of the tree's roots.

But then a most peculiar thing began to happen. He didn't mention it to the Siren because she was still not talking to him after their trysts in the Temple--and he couldn't call The Temple a Temple in front of the Siren, despite the fact it was very clearly a Temple.

When he went to check the tree, the roots had sunk back into the ground. So now there were not even cracks in the ground between the ancient tree and the groves. Something about the energy of the tree seemed to have shifted as well. It almost felt… alive.

He checked more frequently. The Siren started getting fidgety. He knew, in his heart, that this place was affecting her in a much different way than it was himself. Part of him knew the tree had something to do with it. But she would not take any kind of comfort from him.

Then, one day, while making his rounds of the tree, he spotted it. 

A single.

Solitary.

Tiny.

Bulb of green.

He reached out to touch it and his brain had been filled with imagery:

_Much younger versions of himself and the Siren, seated under a massive pomegranate tree, sharing a fruit from it. He in stately attire, her in a white gown and animal skins. They were barely children, enjoying a warm sunny day._

_A version of the Siren, not much different than she appeared now, plucking a ripe pomegranate from the branches. He was being held back by a man like looked like Abraham. The Siren was attired like a Greek goddess in shimmering black silks and a grim crown upon her brow. She tore the fruit open as Olympian guards approached her. “You can't make me! I refuse to return,” she shouted. She quickly brushed her fingers through the heart of the fruit, coming up with six robust seeds. She thrust them into her mouth and swallowed. “I ate of the fruit of the Underworld! I cannot leave! That is the rules!”_

_The two of them, seated underneath the branches. Her head in his lap, her skin glowing with an ethereal light as the sun set over the mountains._

_And finally…_

_The two of them watching as a woman, that looked much like Katrina, plucked a pomegranate from the tree and offered it to a woman that looked like Pandora with a smile. Katrina urged Pandora to eat it. When nothing happened to her, Pandora ran off calling for ‘Adam’. The Siren laughed as she looked at him. “You said I couldn't personally convince man to eat of the fruit. You never said anything about Eve convincing him to eat of it,” she giggled. “Honestly, I'm curious as to how man is going to handle becoming enlightened.”_

_“I don't think he'll do it. I explicitly forbid him from eating from the Tree of Knowledge.”_

_“We'll see,” she hummed. “I mean, obviously, he won't know everything. There will always be secrets that only she-kind will know because they're angels… but it should still be interesting to see what happens.”_

After pulling his hand away he had immediately run back to the Temple to tell the Siren. But she was distracted by the discovery of a possible exit back home. And she continued the delicate game of pulling him in just enough but keeping herself just outside of his reach.

He knew she was hurting because of whatever she had experienced in the Underworld. He wanted to help her. He wanted to comfort her. She would only accept the briefest of physical comfort then shut him out when he tried to emotionally comfort her.

So stubborn and proud, his Siren. All he wanted was for her to let him love her. But the more he tried the more she withdrew. 

Perhaps that was why he threw himself foolishly before the atrocity of the insane Alchemist. Once again, he found himself cradled in the arms of his Siren. He hoped against all odds that he had consumed enough of the potion to counteract the sting and also in time.

“My Siren,” he managed. He reached up to touch her cheek, she stared down at him, face void of emotion but her eyes full of it. He sucked in a breath and touched her lips, that beautiful mouth that had intrigued him from the beginning…

“You're going to be fine,” she croaked, then closed her eyes as she sucked in a breath.

He had doubts about that. He was already unable to move his feet and the numb feeling was spreading, not retracting. “I… I've lived upon borrowed time, for far longer than any man deserves…”

The Siren's face turned hard. “Don't you dare…” she said, her voice quivering. She caught his hand and squeezed his fingers. He thought, perhaps he felt something cool and metal against her palm. “This is not goodbye. Not yet…”

“I've seen wonders beyond my wildest imaginings,” he continued then had to gasp for breath as the numb feeling spread above his knees. He searched her face and hoped she knew she was the greatest of those wonders. “And through the… these centuries, against the impossibility that we would find each other again…” 

It was at his waist now, creeping slowly. He was bloody terrified but he refused to die without letting her know. If it would help her heal. If it would help her find a way to move forward from what had happened in the Underworld… if it didn't bring her comfort today or even in the coming weeks, perhaps it would _someday_.

“We did,” he pushed. “We found each other. And for that, I am eternally grateful.”

He felt it. The moment his heart stopped. He had time to watch disbelief overtake her face. Tears streaked down her cheeks. He saw her lips moving but couldn't hear what she said. She cupped his cheek, for a moment her eyes glowed yellow, then blue, then green, then they blazed like fire before turning pitch black--he would have swore the universe was sparkling in the fathomless darkness of her eyes--just as everything faded to black.


	2. Chapter 2

“I'm afraid this is beginning to be a habit,” a deep but playful and feminine voice intoned.

Ichabod turned sharply toward the voice. The woman that looked like The Siren but older, with delicate streaks of grey in her curls, smiled at him. She was the one that wore the white gown with furs.

“Who are you,” he asked curiously.

“In time, my love,” she replied with a gentle laugh that reminded him of cool, foggy mornings at his family's estate in Scotland. Beautiful. Timeless. Liminal. _Magical_. “All you need to know, right now, I'm the Keeper of the Veil. We were friends, long ago, in another lifetime. Lovers.”

Ichabod glanced around. They were in a lush, beautiful garden. She stood beneath a large tree, in full bloom, branches heavy with pomegranates. “What is this place?”

“Now _that_ I can answer,” the Keeper said, plucking a pomegranate from the tree. “I'm sure you recognize it, even if it's vibrant and full of life… You're beyond the Veil between life and death. But what name do you want me to call it? The Underworld? Hell? Heaven? The Beyond? Hades?” She smiled up at the tree then rested her hand against the trunk. “Avalon. _Eden_. They're all the same place. Hidden away from mankind until the end days.”

“Am I… dead?” Ichabod felt a lump in his throat as he asked. 

The woman nodded, walking toward him. “At least… for now you are.” She pursued her lips as she dug her nails into the fruit. The juices poured out like blood. “The question is… Will you accept Her gift of eternal life?”

She broke the fruit open and held out half toward him. He eyed it suspiciously. The woman laughed again. “You, like her, are a god trapped in a mortal body. The fruit will simply return you to your natural state.” She closed her eyes. “Can't you hear her, asking you? Begging you to live? I'm simply here to facilitate your choice because I'm the one who closed this away from the mortal realm, so I'm the only one who can lift the veil.”

Ichabod took the fruit and stared at it. “When you say ‘eternal life’...” 

“Immortality,” she said softly. “Eternally ageless. If you think your memory is long now, you're in for a treat if you chose to live.”

Ichabod swallowed hard as he heard The Siren's sweet but sorrowful voice echoing through the air. “ _Live! Don't you ever die!_ ”

The ground trembled. The woman made a surprised sound as she stumbled. “She's getting stronger every day. Sooner or later, that tiny mortal body won't be able to contain it.”

“Contain what?” 

The woman nodded toward something behind him. “The moment comes for each of us,” she said. “Where we discover if we're able to wield the power of the ancient one. Inanna couldn't. Kore… almost succeeded but Her heart broke too deeply and the power slipped away. I had the anger. I had the desire for vengeance. But I wasn't strong enough. But her. Your Siren? Look at her, Ichabod.” She stepped around him. “Come and see.”

He turned and saw a shimmering veil behind him. A gentle breeze parted the sections, allowing him to see himself laying in the Siren's lap while she held him with one arm. Her other hand cupped his cheek. He was struck by how tiny she was compared to himself. Her persona held such a largeness that he rarely noted the difference. Her head was bowed over his, her lips pressed to his hairline. Her star spangled eyes glowed with a dark power.

It took a moment, but he finally saw what it was the woman was referring to. Thin, golden lines sparked across the Siren's skin like shooting stars. His own skin glowed where her hand and lips rested on his face. “So much power,” the woman said. “Aching to be set free. But it won't come to pass without your help. She needs you. Even if she denies it until her face turns blue.” She held up the pomegranate. “She needs her Light. Or do you want your stories to end before it ever began, Captain?”

Ichabod took a deep breath as he wrapped his fingers around the half of the pomegranate. He lifted it from the woman's hand and looked at her in the eyes. “The power is slipping from her. What is your choice? Die now or live an eternity at her side? The ultimate question is, do you have enough faith in her to take the chance?”

Ichabod looked toward the Siren. The golden streaks were beginning to spark and fade, tears that shimmered gold poured from her eyes. “An eternity at her side is all I've ever wanted,” he said quietly. “And if ever there was one I had my whole heart and soul’s faith in, it is my Siren.”

The woman eyed him speculatively for a moment. “Prove it.”

“How long will it take for me to remember?” Ichabod asked. 

The woman shrugged. “I don’t know, neither of us has ever fully awakened our true selves before.”

He squeezed the pomegranate to loosen some of the seeds and to get the juices flowing. “To faith,” Ichabod said quietly, raising the fruit gently in a toast. For a moment the woman’s face soften as though she had seen something in him she had always longed to see. Then he turned it up at his lips without further hesitation. He swallowed the seeds whole and clicked his tongue against the flavour of the juice. For only a brief moment longer, nothing seemed to change.

Out of nowhere it felt like a cord snapped taut in his head, when he looked toward the veil, he could see a shimmering silver vine stretching out from his forehead, reaching toward a second vine reaching out from the body Siren was cradling. The two vines touched and wrapped around each other. And the last thing he saw was a bright light.

#  


Ichabod awoke with a startled gasp. He stared, eyes wide, up at his Siren. She gazed down at him, her dark fathomless eyes glittering softly. She smiled softly and kissed his forehead. “Welcome back, My Light.”

He shivered as he suddenly felt weak. Like his soul had run a marathon before coming back to his body and it was settling back into its fleshly confines. After a moment, the Siren’s eyes went back to her normal brown eyes and the golden veins coursing over her skin faded away. She blinked and shook her head slightly. 

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she whispered.

One corner of his mouth twitched but he found he was too exhausted to smile. If he could get his voice to work in that moment, he might have teased her about having affections for him after all. Instead his eyes fluttered closed as she hugged him to her chest.

As he recovered from the anti-venom doing its job in her arms--because that would be her reasoning, never would she fathom she had been the one to bring him from the brink of death--she gently rocked him and rested her cheek against the top of his head. All he could see when he closed his eyes was a once dead tree bursting to life.


End file.
